Chapter 2

The air in the room was dead silent.

Then, my phone rang. The name "Lily" flashing on the screen felt like a cruel joke.

Chloe’s expression softened instantly as she picked up:

"Okay, I’m on my way."

Hanging up, she regained her usual cold composure:

"I know you don't really want a divorce. Otherwise, you wouldn't have let me convince you to stay every other time."

"Go back, apologize to Ethan, and swear you’ll never harass Lily again. Let's just end this drama here."

With that, she grabbed her car keys and rushed out of the family court building.

Outside, the wind began to howl, and a heavy downpour started to splash against the windows.

I gripped the signed divorce papers tightly.

I suddenly remembered the first time I caught Ethan cheating. It was on a rainy day just like this.

Two tangled bodies, a messy bed.

Faced with my screaming and crying, Ethan had only looked at me with complete indifference:

"It was just a temporary craving."

"Why are you crying? You're still the only Mrs. Sterling."

That day, I went mad. I ran into the pouring rain and tried to jump into the river to end it all.

It was Chloe who risked her life to drag me back.

She cried and swore to me:

"Ethan was just playing around."

"Don't worry. I’ll find a way to make him change his mind and come back to you."

Later, every time Ethan cheated, I tried everything—slitting my wrists, threatening to jump from buildings, even trying to take him down with me.

And every time, Chloe would stop me at all costs, telling me over and over that Ethan would change.

But he never did. Not once.

One was my husband, the other was my best friend.

They used to argue passionately over whether I hated onions or cilantro in my food.

They used to stand up for me whenever I was bullied, one fighting the bullies and the other pulling me to safety.

Now, they were hurting me ruthlessly for the exact same woman.

I guess nothing lasts forever.

I tried to control my shaking hands—a symptom of my worsening anxiety—and took a big step out of the courthouse.

From now on, I only rely on myself.

When I got back to the house, luxury jewelry boxes were piled up across the dining table.

This was Ethan’s usual routine whenever I brought up divorce.

No apology, no explanation. Just a delivery of the latest designer jewelry the next day.

But this time, as I walked closer, the deep, blood-red color of a ruby necklace flashed in my eyes.

I instantly threw up.

Years ago, my mother was publicly cyberbullied and called a cheap homewrecker. To prove her innocence, she jumped from a high-rise building right in front of me.

Her body shattered on the pavement. Blood was everywhere.

Since then, the color red has been my absolute worst nightmare.

With trembling hands, I shut the jewelry box and dialed Ethan’s number on Snapchat.

He didn't pick up within ten seconds like he used to.

One minute, thirty minutes, an hour passed. My phone was filled with missed call logs.

I couldn't sit still anymore. I stood up.

I opened the location-tracking app I had installed on Ethan’s phone long ago.

I grabbed the divorce papers and my car keys, and went out the door.

Following the GPS.

I found the estate in the suburbs that Ethan had bought for Lily.

The moment I reached the gate, a security guard blocked me:

"No unauthorized personnel allowed."